


A Peek Into the Heart

by LittleIdazle



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Marichat, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 10:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleIdazle/pseuds/LittleIdazle
Summary: After a disturbing reveal between Adrien and his father, he runs away with a broken and betrayed heart guiding him. He winds up on a balcony where he spends hours pouring his heart out to the girl he loves. The night is full of dirt, tears, and too many revelations for his heart to take. Some terrible and soul crushing, and some just amazing enough to ease the pain.





	A Peek Into the Heart

If Adrien could crack a hole in his chest and take a peek at his heart, he was certain he would see it crumbling. He would see it struggling to beat and slowly collapsing in on itself. In all its former glory, Adrien would see a breaking heart. At least that was what it felt like. With his labored breathing and heavy chest, Adrien felt himself falling into a dark pit.

The impact of every step and every leap he took didn't help. The harsh pause when his feet would hit the buildings only knocked the breath out of him more and made the ache intensify, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop until he forgot everything he saw, everything his father told him with that sickening smirk. He wouldn't stop until it all crumbled and broke apart like the seams of his heart.

It couldn't be true, and yet it was. As much as he hated the idea and the image that just wouldn't leave his head, it made sense. Of course his father was Hawkmoth; it was him all along. Of course he was trying to manipulate time and warp reality. He could understand his reasoning, but Adrien could see what it had done to the man he once looked up to. Or rather, he couldn't see him. When he looked into those maddened eyes, he couldn't recognize his father. A pipe dream induced by grief controlled his life.

He had backed away. Shook head and begged his father to stop. He didn't, he just kept rambling about family and getting back what belonged to him, but Adrien knew that it was no longer Emilie at the forefront of his mind. It was power and revenge, the desire to have God himself groveling at his feet for taking everything away from him. 

Adrien couldn't bear to look at him anymore, so he left. He ran as fast as he could and ignored the tears building up in his eyes as he transformed. He didn't know where he was going, but as broken and crushed as it had become, his heart did. It beat gingerly and led him to the place where he knew everything would be okay.

-

Marinette was not a light sleeper, something anyone who had ever tried to wake her up could attest to. There wasn't a sound loud enough to wake the girl up. She often turned her alarm clock off in her sleep and even more regularly let it ring until it gave up on her. 

She wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, but when she was asleep, no one was waking her up. But for a reason unbeknownst to her, the soft thud of boots against her balcony always did the trick. At the gentle sound, her eyes would flutter open and catch the glint of her partner's bell.

She once asked Tikki if it had something to do with the miraculous. The kwami only replied by telling her they were simply more sensitive to matters of the heart. Marinette wasn't sure what she meant by that, but she learned long ago not to question Tikki's vague answers. If she wanted to be clear, she would, so Marinette said nothing more on the subject.

It became a regular thing as Chat visited her more frequently. She would hear the little tap of his feet and she was awake within seconds. Sometimes it bothered her, because Marinette valued her sleep, but she set her drowsiness aside because she valued him more. She wouldn't ignore the quiet sound or stop to wonder how it caught her attention to begin with, she would just open her skylight and greet her silly kitty.

That night, however, it wasn't the light touch on her balcony that woke her up, it was a crash. 

Marinette jerked awake at the sound of her potted plants shattering above her. Her first thought was to transform and fight whatever person or akuma had made its presence known, but when a familiar cry reached her ears, she paused.

“Chat?” Marinette opened the skylight, calling his name cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw his figure on the ground, not even trying to stand back up or wipe the scattered dirt off his body. He didn't move an inch, and Marinette was afraid he had gotten hurt before she heard a voice that didn't sound anything like him.

“Sorry about the plants, Mari,” he choked out. “I'll- I'll make sure to get those replaced.”

“Forget about the plants, Chat! Are you okay?” She rushed to his side, dirtying her pajamas as she kneeled down and checked his body for any obvious signs of injury. When she couldn't find any, she placed her hands on his forehead and then his cheeks to check for fever. She only felt tears, grimy from the dirt and the dust he accumulated on his way there.

“I don't. . . I don't know,” he replied, laughing a second later and looking absolutely mad. Mad and hurt, like he didn't know what to do with himself.

She sighed. He clearly wasn't okay. It was a dumb question. “Come on,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear. “Let's go inside.”

He shook his head. “I'll get your sheets dirty.”

“It's fine, I can wash them. Let's just-”

“No.” He shut his eyes and more tears fell. “You'll have to change them to sleep tonight, and then you'll have to wash and dry them and waste your time just because I was clumsy. I already broke your pots. Enough damage has been done. I don't want anything else to be ruined. Not tonight.”

Taking a closer look at him, at his wet cheeks and chewed on lips, Marinette found the injury. In listening to his words that obviously had a double meaning, she spotted where he was hurting and knew there was little she could do to fix it. 

He had come to her before after getting himself hurt as Chat when he couldn't take care of it himself. She would clean and stitch him up, put a pretty, little bandage over it and tell him to be careful. This wound would take much more than that.

Marinette didn't argue with him. She didn't tell him to put his pride aside and let her take care of him. She didn't even ask him what was wrong, she just laid down next to him, not paying any mind to the dirt and glass beneath her.

She breathed in deeply, scooting closer to his body. She wanted to offer him warmth, and she wanted to show that no matter what had happened and no matter what kind of state it left him in, she was there. She wouldn't turn him away or tell him lies to make him feel better. She simply offered him solace, and he took it without restraint. 

Chat moved his arm under her head as a makeshift pillow. She knew he was only doing it half for her, something she didn't mind at all. He liked the closeness and soaked her body heat up. As she nuzzled closer to him, humming a soft tune to sooth his mind, she felt his chest shake. He trembled and hiccuped, and though she desperately wanted to say something to make him feel better, she kept her mouth shut. She learned that sometimes it was better to just be there, and if he wanted to talk, he could talk. She instead moved her hand up to his, stroking his leather clad hand and trying to convey how much he meant to her.

It seemed to help, because a moment later, he found his voice.

“I can't go back home. I can't do it.”

She gripped his hand.

“He's there, probably already figuring out how to manipulate me into helping him, but I won't. I won't let him use me.”

“Who's trying to use you?” 

He hesitated, but when his voice hitched and a sob attempted to claw itself out of his throat, he gave up trying to hold back. “My father.”

It was two words, but she could feel how much pain they held. 

“I love him, Marinette. He's all the family I have left, but he doesn't care. He's so caught up in what we lost that he won't even look at me for a solid minute anymore. He's so concerned with getting her back that he isn't afraid to abuse me if that's what it takes. I love him, but I don't want to go through that. I can't.”

“Then don't,” Marinette found herself saying. “Don't put up with it. Just because he's your father doesn't mean he owns you.”

He laughed a bitter laugh. “You clearly don't know my father. I don't have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. Don't believe the lie that you don't.”

Chat started to snivel. She had seen the signs and felt the tears, but it was the first time she actually heard him cry. “You don't understand,” he said, beginning to sob. “You don't understand, Marinette. You just, you don't. He's a monster. He's turned himself into something I don't recognize and I can't escape him. He might even akumatize me to keep me quiet and do his bidding.”

Marinette's heart stopped in her chest. What did he say?

Though he struggled to speak through his sobbing, he didn't stop talking. The words were pouring out like from a broken dam. It couldn't be held back any longer, so he spewed everything out. Marientte wanted to listen and be there for him, but the words that exited his mouth paralyzed her.

“He doesn't care about me anymore. All he wants is the miraculouses. He suspected I was Chat Noir, but it didn't stop him. I almost got killed so many times, but he never stopped. He just kept sending them out and risking my life for his own selfish goals. I hate this. I hate this so much.”

Marinette couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Your father is Hawkmoth?”

He winced. Given his state, she knew it was the wrong thing to ask, but despite the distress on his face at hearing those words, he nodded.

She didn't know how to respond. She was supposed to be the good friend he turned to whenever he needed someone. She had made it clear to him from the first day he visited her that she would give him anything he needed, whether it was a good time or a shoulder to cry on. They had spent many nights together just laughing and playing video games, and some nights he visited at just the right moment when she needed someone. They had this mutual understanding that if they ever needed each other, they didn't have to hold back. They were each others' safe place.

Chat was likely expecting her to hold and comfort him, but she was also Ladybug whether he knew it or not. When it had something to do with her duty as one of Paris' guardian angels, she had to do something. 

“W-why didn't you tell Ladybug?” she managed to ask amidst her panic. It was the only thing she could say without revealing her identity, but she wanted to do more. She wanted to ask him who his father was, but with Chat in such a fragile condition, she didn't want to push it. Getting Hawkmoth was important, but she never wanted to do anything to possibly hurt Chat in the process. It was too soon.

“I probably should've,” he said. “I don't know where she is though, and I needed to get out.”

“So you came here?”

“Somehow.” He moved his head down to look at her, and though the pain in his eyes was evident and the strain in his voice hadn't left, he smiled. The smile alone broke her heart. It was real, but it looked so sorrowful and yet so dulcet all at once. “You've always been here for me, Marinette. Sometimes I wonder if you're the only one.”

Marinette frowned at that. She wanted to ask about Ladybug, tell him she cared about him and she was there for him, but that would prove his point. That's when she knew that she had to tell him. Not just because it was convenient in their battle against Hawkmoth, but because she cared about him more than he could know, and she wanted to tell him that. For months, she had longed to tell him just how much she loved him and wanted to be in his life. 

He was everything to her, and if she couldn't be completely there for him as both his partner in crime fighting and as someone he cared for, she feared he would never recover from this. 

If she didn't, who would? No one in his personal life knew he was Chat Noir, no one would be able to talk to him and help him through it. It had to be her.

She didn't think of it as a burden. It was a privilege.

Marinette sat up and looked down at her beloved partner. His eyes were rimmed red and his mask was sullied from weeping. He looked tired and beaten, and she hated that look on him.

“Chat,” she said, her lips curving up into a smile to match his. “My Chaton.”

He didn't move, he just watched her and breathed as evenly as he could.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“And I'm always here for you.”

He nodded.

“And I want to always be with you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Marinette?”

“You have to know that you are everything to me.”

He sat up, leaning closer to her and gulping audibly. “What are you getting at?”

She could see the fear in his eyes. He knew she was about to say something big, and after finding out something so devastating, she couldn't blame him for being afraid. She cupped his cheek and kissed his nose. “It's nothing bad, not if you take it well.”

He started shaking his head. “No, princess. I don't think I can handle anymore.”

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

“But, Marin-”

“Do you trust me, Chat?”

He didn't say anything for a moment, and in those few seconds she could feel him battling with himself. She wished she could take a peek into his heart and know what he was feeling, what he was thinking. No matter how tormenting it was, she wanted to feel what he felt and know exactly how to ease his worries. She wanted to know, but she could only wait.

He eventually took a breath and sat up. They looked at each other earnestly and he gave her a soft smile. “Of course I trust you,” he said, “but go easy on me.”

She didn't start talking immediately. She looked down and fiddled with her fingers, feeling the nervousness build up in her chest. She struggled to string her words together. Seeming to notice that, Chat placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Do you trust me?”

She laughed. “You know I do.”

“Then tell me. You said yourself that it isn't bad, right?”

Casting everything aside, she started with a story. She told him about a typical, clumsy teenage girl whose life was anything but extraordinary. Everyday was simply going to school and coming home to a family she loved, nothing more, but one day when she came home, she found a strange box on her desk. She opened the box and a flash of light blinded her. When she opened it, her life changed forever.

At that point in the story, she could see it dawning on him. Recognition flooded his eyes. He didn't say anything though, he only nodded his head for her to continue, and with a shuddering breath, she did.

She proceeded to the main part of the story, telling him about the unique earrings and the creature accompanying them. She told him about how poorly she reacted to the red kwami and about the promise of keeping everything a secret, a promise she often wanted to break. She talked about the first time she transformed and how terrible she was at being a superheroine. She laughed as she mentioned how the first time she used her yoyo, she accidentally flung herself across Paris. He laughed with her.

“And that's when you met your partner?”

“No, that's when I met my best friend.” Marinette felt tears brimming in her eyes. “That's when I met the person who gave me the courage to be more than a clumsy teenager.”

He was beginning to tear up again, but she was glad to see that it was with a smile. Not the bitter, halfhearted smile he wore earlier. It was bright and it was beautiful. The tears shimmered as they fell, and though he didn't need to say anything, he leaned over and whispered two words into her ear as he wrapped her in an embrace.

“My Lady.”

Hearing those words without the mask covering her blush, well, it was a strange thing. A strange, but wonderful thing.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and if they weren't so caught up in each other, the image would have been comical. Two teenagers, one wearing skintight leather and the other in pink floral pajamas, sitting on the ground covered in tears and dirt. They sat together in each others arms as if the night couldn't age.

Chat pulled away with only a little resistence on her part. He placed his hands on her cheeks, joy plastered on his face. Just moments ago he was withering on the ground and choking on the torture of knowing the identity of Hawkmoth, but now he was basking in the revelation of knowing who his partner was. The difference was drastic, but she knew the pain wasn't gone. Just subdued in the moment. She felt like he knew that, but they ignored it.

“Do you want to hear my story?”

Marinette's smile faded. “Oh, Chat. You don't have to.”

“I do, actually. And I want to. Sure, the circumstances aren't the best, but we wouldn't be doing this if they were.”

She couldn't deny that. She exhaled, nodding her head at him. “Okay. Minou. Let's hear your story.”

Unlike her, he dove into it without taking so much as a minute to prepare himself. He looked eager, as if he had been waiting to tell her for years. She then remembered that she was always the one holding them back from revealing their identities, so there was probably some truth to that.

“I was a sad kid before I got my miraculous. My father always kept me locked up inside and never let me go out unless I was doing something on my schedule that he was in charge of. I felt like a puppet from the time my mother passed away to the moment I became Chat Noir.” 

Chat wasn't looking at her as he told the story. He looked right past her into the night sky and the lights flickering and shining across their city. He had a nostalgic look on his face, and Marinette enjoyed seeing it. The soft gaze he held with Paris and the way his muscles relaxed. He blinked slowly, and it was all too fitting. 

“So when the miraculous came into my life, I felt free. I was able to be my own person and do what I wanted to without him hovering over me, and it gave me the confidence to take a little bit of control in my life outside of the suit, too. I decided I was gonna go to school for the first time. I didn't care what my father thought, I was gonna do it.”

He looked up at her, almost as if he was expecting some sort of reaction. She only urged him to continue.

“My first day at school was a little bit of a disaster.” He laughed sheepishly. “I guess you could call me socially handicapped because of how my father isolated me. When roll call came around, I jumped out of my seat and yelled out, 'Here!' as loud as I could.”

Marinette giggled, remembering the time a particular classmate of hers did the very same on his first day of school. The same exact thing. . . 

“But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when my childhood friend put a piece of gum on my classmate's seat. I was trying to get it off when she came in and it looked like I was the one who put it there. She didn't like me very much, but everything was okay at the end of the day.”

Marinette, wide eyed, was slow to admit to herself what he was telling her. She wanted him to say it, to say the words to solidify the truth. “What. . . what happened at the end of the day?”

He grinned at her. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Chat. . .” she looked at him intently. “What happened?”

He looked down at his hands, smiling a little too much for someone who came literally crashing onto her balcony, but maybe that was a good thing. He looked happy. Realizing the look on his face accompanied the memory he was recalling made her a bit bashful.

“It was raining,” he said. “I had an umbrella and she didn't. I greeted her, but she ignored me. Not that I blame her. I was thinking of all these ways to tell her that it wasn't me and it was Chloe, but I didn't know how to say it without sounding like I was making excuses, so I just opened up to her. I told her the truth, that I was clueless and friendless. I handed her my umbrella and I remember seeing those big, blue eyes widen as she took it. And you wanna know the best part of that moment?”

“What?” she whispered in response.

“When the umbrella closed on her.”

“Please don't remind me.” Marinette groaned and he burst out laughing. 

“It was so great though! It was the first time I laughed like that in ages.”

“But you were laughing at me!”

He shrugged. “Does it help if I told you it was really cute?”

“Not at all.” She rolled her eyes. “It was so embarrassing. And to think I still have your umbrella.”

Chat blinked at her. “You still have it?”

“Of course I do. That was the day I. . .”

“The day you. . .?”

Huffing and trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, Marinette looked up at him determinedly. She knew. She knew who her precious Chat Noir was, and though she could hardly believe it, it was the best possible outcome she could have ever imagined. She needed to see it though. She needed to see him.

“Could you detranform?”

“What?”

“I- I want to see your face.”

“Do you doubt me?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I just want to see it. I just feel like my heart won't let me believe it otherwise.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, trailing it down to hold her hand as his eyes softened. “Say my name first.”

She breathed in. Looking at his black mask and leather ears, she willed herself to speak. “Adrien.”

He smiled. “Plagg, detransform me.”

The belt that made his tail, the zipper, the pockets she was still jealous of, the bell she loved to tease him about, it all melted away and left her beloved Adrien Agreste. She could vaguely see a blur of black darting down into her room (his kawmi, she assumed), but the only thing she could focus on was the boy in front of her.

Seeing his face, it was like all her feelings for the boy and for her partner combined and created this inexplicable affection building up inside her. She didn't know what to do with it, so she cried.

She wasn't sure what was more embarrassing, the umbrella incident or crying in front of the guy she loved. She couldn't help it though. It was all so overwhelming and the tears just spilled out.

Adrien began to panic. “I- I know we aren't very close behind the mask, but it's still just me, Marinette. I'm not any different.”

Marinette sniffed and tried to look at him through her blurry vision. It wasn't working, and the emotions just kept crawling up her throat. 

“I was a little nervous since you always stutter and get flustered around me, but- but I didn't think you'd be disappointed.” His gaze turned downcast, and all of a sudden his eagerness and excitement dwindled into resignation.

She shook her head. “Adrien, no.”

“No, I get it. I wasn't expecting all that much. . . or anything, I just-”

She laughed through her tears. “Adrien, look at me.” She tilted his chin up and made eye contact with him. She could see it, the disappointment mingling with brilliant emerald of his irises. “Adrien.”

“Yes?”

“Adrien,” she breathed out.

He frowned. “I'm looking at you. What is it?”

She giggled once more, sniffing all the while. “It's you.”

“Yeah.” He nodded his head despite the confusion. “It's me, Mari.”

“It's always been you.”

“So. . . you're not disappointed?”

“I'm happy.”

“You're happy.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Then why are you crying?”

She bit her lip and stared at him, taking the sight in and wondering how she never knew before. “Because I love you.”

-

If Adrien could crack a hole in his chest and take a peek at his heart, he was certain he would see it battered and stitched back together. He would see it struggling to beat, but it would beat nonetheless. In all its glory, Adrien would see a reminder the all was not lost.

They spent the rest of the night trying to ignore how filthy they were by distracting each other with chaste pecks along their faces. It was a blissfull couple of hours, but the reason of his visit nagged their minds as the horizon took on a pinkish hue. 

“Hey,” Marinette mumbled tiredly into his ear, stroking the hand he had wrapped around her waist. “We're going to fix this.”

“How do you know?” he responded, trying his best to not sound despondent and miserably failing. He wanted to ignore the ache and keep showering her cheeks in kisses, but the morning sun signified the end of his night and the beginning of his battle with his father.

“We're Ladybug and Chat Noir. We can do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything at all. So longer as we have each other.”

He hummed in agreement, resting his head on her shoulder and holding onto those words.

So long as they had each other, and that they did.


End file.
